In Defiance of Time
by wynturkroh
Summary: Starts a year after the events of the movie and spans many. All is not well within the Bennett household and Bunnymund is determined to do what he can to ease the hurt, but when a nearly forgotten history begins to repeat itself will he and the other Guardians be able to stop a repetition of the one event that had taken everything from him once before? Movie and book compliant!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, not getting any money from it, wish I did. **

Prologue:

Cassandra Bennett stared blankly at the front door. It was going to open again, it had too…

Logic told her that it wouldn't, but her heart wasn't listening. Her heart was telling her that there was no way that her husband of eight years would just go into their shared bedroom after the kids were asleep, pack his things and leave.

Leave without saying anything to her. Leave without saying goodbye to their children. He wouldn't go without giving Sophie a playful toss in the air. He wouldn't leave without ruffling Jamie's hair in that affectionate way. He wouldn't leave without telling her _why_.

He wouldn't just go.

He couldn't.

Cassandra didn't know how long she sat there staring at that cold, unfeeling door. Then she heard the first tentative whirring of birdsong and she looked out the window. She saw that the sky had lightened to the steely grey of pre-dawn. That was when her heart first caught up with her head.

He _could_ just leave. He _could_ go without telling the children, their beautiful children, that he loves them. He _could_ leave without giving her a word as to _why_. He _could_ walk out that door without giving the life that they spent nearly a decade building together a backwards glance.

He could, and he _did_…

As the first of the many tears to come rolled down Cassandra's cheeks and the first of countless sobs shook her delicate shoulders she paid no mind to the thing outside her window that she _couldn't_ see.

Although it could clearly see her, through the bright green new leaves of her grandmother's lilac bush. Deep moss colored eyes, eyes that had seen the rise and fall of grand empires now lost to the fickleness of time. Eyes that bore witness to the most deplorable acts imaginable, as well as those of selfless beauty, that one living, breathing, thinking thing could commit onto another.

Eyes that now watched her with a glimmer of approval as she seized a Kleenex from the end table and dried her eyes, flicked her chestnut hair out of her face, squared her shoulders and made her way to the kitchen to make breakfast. The person behind those impossibly old eyes knew that she has two little ones to look after, and her son had school in a few hours. They knew that the dinner conversation that night was going to be difficult, and the coming weeks even more so.

Yet those eyes had more than a small spark of steely resolve. Their keeper knew too well the feeling of loneliness. Loneliness that only recently (by his reckoning) had begun to be chased away by a little blonde girl perched on his shoulders as they raced through a glen of very peculiar flowers, a little blonde girl that had probably rolled out of her bed and was sound asleep on the floor of her room above Cassandra Bennett's parlor.

No, this family would not know loneliness. Not if E. Aster Bunnymund had anything to say about it.

**AN: Well buggers. That was a bit more difficult that I thought! ^.^; A couple of notes here about certain artistic licenses I'll be taking. First of all I saw the ROTG movie before I read the books, and I adore it. I read the books, and I adore them just as much. Anyone who has seen the movie and read the books knows that the Bunnymund of the movie and the Bunnymund of the books are two radically different characters. The challenge I face with writing a Bunny centric story is that I adore each of the Bunnymunds. So, rather than picking one over the other I will be merging the two of them into one hopefully unique being that in its own way stays true to both the movie-verse and book-verse. Wish me luck.**

**Also, Cassandra Bennett is of course Jamie's and Sophie's mom. We hear her voice in the movie, we catch a glimpse of her, but aside from that she is pretty much a clean slate, we don't even know her name. So I named her and I'll be writing her as she wishes me too. That is to say, a lot of the times, characters take on a life of their own, and I can already tell that Cassandra will be one of them! She will be a permanent fixture in the story, can't have a Bennett Family story without her really. Jamie's and Sophie's father is not in the movie at all and I don't know whether or not he will be returning to this story as a character, but his lingering presence will certainly be felt. **


	2. The Cottage

**Disclaimer: This fic is officially disclaimed. **

For as long as Jamie could remember the little stone cottage across the street and in the forest and overlooking a pond was for sale. He didn't know why. It was a nice enough place, with a large shaded front yard that sprouted wild tiger lilies and blue flag irises in the spring and colorful mushrooms in the fall. Ivy climbed the dark grey stone walls all the way up to the old fashioned slate shingles. The heavy wooden front door had a pretty green and lavender stained glass window in it and there was a modest covered back porch with a dilapidated bench swing.Maybe because it was a small place, only two bedrooms a sitting room/kitchen area and a small bathroom, and because the sunny back yard gently sloped down directly to the waterfront of the pond with a thin strip of sandy beach the property value was too high for just one or two people.

Or at least that's what his Dad used to tell him. In fact, that cottage was a special place for Jamie and his Dad. In the summertime they would pack a lunch and go down to its backyard and swim and fish and they would eat their lunches on that swing soaking up the sun and spend all day, just the two of them and not go home until the fireflies came out. Jamie would often spin fantastic tales about that cottage. About how it was a witch's house and that the heavy front door would open to a different room depending on how you knocked on it, so really the cottage was actually the size of a castle on the inside, and just as opulent. Or about how that there were fairies living in there and they came out and danced in the mushroom circles in the front yard at midnight during the full moon. Jamie's dad would listen to him chatter about how obviously magical that place was with an indulgent smile as he hooked another worm onto the bobber of Jamie's pole for him.

Secretly, Jamie thought that his Dad didn't really like the cottage stories, and that was why he left.

So it was, that on the first humid morning of summer vacation, two months after his Dad disappeared, that Jamie got up early, packed a lunch, grabbed his fishing pole and made his way down the long dirt driveway to the cottage. When he arrived the morning mist was still clinging to the surface of the glassy water and Jamie could hear a loon calling its loud mournful cry. Here, surrounded by towering pine and birch trees it was easy to believe in the magic of that place. Easy to hope that the magic was strong enough to bring his Dad back.

Jamie opened his little tackle box and pulled out a spinner and attached it to the end of his pole. Then he walked out until the tips of his sneakers kissed the edge of the water. With practiced ease he flicked his wrist and cast out his line with a satisfying zipping sound. Seconds after hearing the liquid plop he engaged the line and began to bring it in.

One lesson that Jamie learned well last year from the Guardians was the power of belief, and it was easy to believe here, in this quiet place. He could almost feel his Dad standing in the moist sand next to him. _I believe, I believe, I believe_ he chanted in his head. _I believe_ he told himself with every turn of the reel in his hands. _I believe, I believe, I believe, _recast the line. _I believe, I believe, I believe,_ recast. Repeat.

Moments passed, moments that dragged on until his mind was blissfully blank, the mantra of belief fled from his thoughts. Moments that turned timeless, and Jamie was only aware of the mist slowly lifting from the water and the gentle lapping of the waves in time to his own calm breaths. He did not know how long he stood there, casting and reeling his line, until the sound of a car pierced though the quiet.

Jamie's heart leapt into his throat. Cars never came down here. It had to be..! It must! He jerked his line to shore and dropped his pole where he was standing, then tore across the grassy backyard and around the cottage. There he froze.

It was not his Dad stepping out of the strange truck. Not his Dad marching over to the faded 'for sale' sign and tearing it from the ground. Not his Dad looking at him with a half amused half exasperated expression through a haze of cigarette smoke. Jamie did not know this person.

"You can't be here, kid," the Not Dad rasped. "This here is private property. The new owner is moving in this afternoon."

Not Dad turned around and tossed the real estate sign into the bed of the truck, an obvious dismissal. Then walked around and climbed into the cab and pulled away. The Not Dad didn't see the tears streaming from Jamie's amber eyes or hear his strangled sobs. The Not Dad had no way of knowing of the heartbreak of realizing that the magic of the stone-cottage-fairy-witch-house was a lie. Or worse, the magic was never his at all, but betrayed him by letting him think that it was.

It was this moment that Jamie realized that his Dad was not coming home. Not ever. Underneath that realization was the rising feeling of betrayal, of anger. How could the magic here turn away from him? How! _WHY?_ Why wasn't his Dad coming back? What did Jamie do that was so horrible that his Dad had to leave!? It wasn't_ fair_! If he knew he would apologize, he would fix it! He had _no way _of knowing though!

Driven by hurt and anger and frustration Jamie seized a fist sized rock from the dirt driveway and hurled it with all his might at the offending cottage. The rock sailed through the green and lavender stained glass window with a musical shatter. Something unidentifiable broke inside Jamie with that window and he went berserk. He flung himself at the ivy clinging to the stone walls and started ripping it down with all his might. Next he stomped on the tiger lilies and blue flags, uprooting the bulbs with savage kicks. Then he pelted back around the house and tore the bench swing from its hooks and splintered the old dry wood by jumping on it and finally he went down to the shore and kicked over his open tackle box and snapped his fishing pole in half, stomping on the reel until it was nothing more than a tangle of line and broken gears.

Chest heaving and eyes bloodshot Jamie collapsed onto the warm grass and closed his eyes. Once he was calm he was instantly flooded by shame. Staggering upright Jamie trudged his way back home, leaving the broken window, the destroyed garden, the shattered swing and the snarled remains of his fishing gear behind.

When Jamie got back home he was surprised to discover that it was only seven thirty and his Mom and Sophie were still asleep. So he kicked off his shoes at the door and climbed the stairs and went to his room and dropped onto his bed.

Not long later Jamie heard movement coming from his mother's room. And he quickly burrowed himself under his blankets. As he lay there, listening to his mother's morning sounds he suddenly felt very, very tired. With one last shuttering breath Jamie's eyes drifted shut and he fell into a fitful doze.

He was careful to not think about anything while he drifted in and out of that strange place between asleep and awake. Although he did register when his mom knocked on his door to tell him that breakfast was ready. Jamie still didn't budge. In fact, he didn't move from the protective cocoon of his blankets until he heard Abby barking and Sophie's scampering feet running to the door.

Sighing Jamie looked at the clock. 3:13 pm. Why wasn't this day over yet? Ignoring the plate on his nightstand with an egg salad sandwich and carrot sticks; he rolled over with every intention of going back to that floaty place where he didn't have to think, he just needed Abby to co-operate and s_top barking_.

After a few moments she did, and then there were footsteps accompanied by the clicking of dog paws on the hardwood floor in the hallway. His bedroom door opened and his mom ushered Abby inside.

"James Mathew Bennett Jr." his Mom proclaimed. "You will be out of bed and downstairs in the next five minutes."

"Yes Mom," He groaned. Jamie knew better than to argue with that tone of voice. The voice that told him he was in trouble.

Jamie rolled out of bed when the door clicked shut and looked at Abby. "You can have it if you want," he told the dog, motioning to the plate of food. Needing no further invitation the greyhound wolfed down the sandwich, but left the carrots.

Closing the door to his bedroom with the dog still inside, Jamie trudged downstairs and paused as he entered the kitchen. Sitting at the table, where his Dad was supposed to be sitting, was a man Jamie had never seen before. He could tell by the bend of his knees that he was tall, probably around six and a half feet. He was wearing dark brown corduroys and loafers, a dark green vest that was unbuttoned over a white button shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just above the elbows, thereby exposing whirling tattoos on each of his forearms. The man turned to look at him with dark moss green eyes that peered over the golden rims of bottle green, egg shaped glasses. He had a long face and nose with pointed features which were softened by a short, meticulously groomed beard and goatee the same dark, almost black, brown as his hair with copious dustings of grey, especially at his temples, which Jamie could see peeking out from underneath the dark green pageboy hat perched comfortably upon his head.

Jamie quickly looked away, so as not to be caught staring and his eyes landed instead on the table. There, between his Mom and the man, with the glare of the overhead lamp bearing down on them like a spotlight, were his broken fishing pole and tackle box. A tackle box with the words "J. Bennett "and his address scrawled across the lid in black sharpie.

With the foreboding knowledge of what this conversation was supposed to be about Jamie clomped the rest of the way to the table, and sat in his usual seat, between his Mom and the man, with his back to the sink.

"Jamie," his mom began. "Did you go fishing at the cottage this morning?"

"Yes," he told the tabletop.

"Did you rip up the garden?"

"Yes," he whispered.

His Mom sighed and pinched the spot between her eyes, a habit she had when she was particularly stressed. "Did you break the swing and window?"

Jamie nodded.

"Why?" His Mom asked in that quiet way of hers that she used when she was _really _mad.

Tears burned behind Jamie's eyes, but they wouldn't fall. How could he explain the anger, hurt and _betrayal_? How could he choke out words from beyond the lump in this throat that would adequately explain the _heartbreak_ that the magic of that place didn't work? That instead of his dad sitting to his right it was a stranger. The magic wasn't supposed to bring a _stranger_ the magic was supposed to bring his _Dad_!

The stranger and his Mom were watching him, waiting for him to speak, but before he could Sophie came barreling out from the entryway to the parlor in green camouflage pants a Thomas the Train t-shirt and a sparkly pink tutu. "BUNNY! Hop, hop, hop!" she shrieked, then proceeded to fling herself at the stranger.

"Sophie…" his mom began, but the stranger waved it off.

"It's alright ma'am," he said in a low, calming voice with an Australian accent. "I know how excitable little ankle-biters can get."

Jamie's eyes went wide. He knew that voice, and only one person has ever called Sophie an 'ankle-biter'. As if in confirmation the man looked over to Jamie, one large hand extended to shake, and winked. "I don't think we've been introduced. My name is E. Aster Bunnymund, your new neighbor."

Dazed, Jamie took the offered hand. "Jamie Bennett."

"This, "his mother said, scooping up the four year old "Is Sophia Marie. And I'm Cassandra, very pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine, I'm sure." Bunnymund said.

"I somehow doubt that," Cassandra sighed, "when one considers my son's recent behavior."

"It's nothing, I assure you, one can clearly see that Jamie is contrite, but nothing a little chocolate won't fix. I've already made arrangements to replace the window and swing."

Cassandra smiled, all of the previous tension gone, if not the stress. "At least let me help pay for them, Mr. Bunnymund, and I don't think Jamie is going to be getting any chocolate any time soon."

"Absolutely not," he disagreed. "I'm sure you have better things to do with your funds than paying off the neighbors when your son has a fit of pique. Beyond that, it was just a pittance really, and please, call me Aster."

"That's very kind of you, Aster, but I don't think I'd be comfortable with not contributing something."

Jamie and Sophie watched the verbal volley between the two adults. Jamie with disbelief and Sophie with glee, she was too young to understand the impossibility of the Easter Bunny sitting in their kitchen, talking to their mom, and looking completely human, she only cared that he _was_, but Jamie wasn't. How did she even know it was the Easter Bunny in the first place?

Jamie didn't know, but he planned on finding out. "How about I go down to the cottage in the mornings and help fix the garden?" he asked. Both of the adults looked at him, Bunnymund with a knowing glimmer behind his egg shaped glasses and his mom with a raised eyebrow. "I do feel bad about it, and fixing the garden won't cost anything."

"I think that's a splendid idea," Aster said.

"I'm not too sure how comfortable I am with my son going down there by himself. No offence, but we don't even know you, Aster."

"Yes-huh!" Sophie declared. "Is Easter Bunny!"

Jamie's mom looked at his sister, confused.

"E. Aster, Mom, Easter _Bunny_mund…" Jamie explained.

"_Oh_," his Mom hid a giggle behind her hand. _"_I-I'm sorry…"

"Not at all, Ms. Bennett, I get it all the time," Aster said. "If the idea is amenable to you, you and Miss Sophie are welcome to my cottage while Jamie works in the garden in the mornings, just so you know nothing untoward is taking place."

Jamie's mom thought for a moment. "Yes, I think I can agree to that. When would you like to have him start?"

"Tomorrow is fine with me, would nine be too early?"

"Nine will be fine."

"Very well then," Aster stood up from the table and pushed in the chair. "I will see you tomorrow at nine. You folks have a fine day."

Sophie jumped down from her mother's lap and followed Aster to the door, "Bye-bye Bunny!"

"See you tomorrow, ankle-biter."

Just like that, he was gone. Jamie could almost picture him, a giant rabbit walking down the lane into the forest. Except that he wasn't a rabbit, he was somehow a man. And Jamie was going to find out how. Grinning, Jamie decided he couldn't wait until tomorrow.

"I suggest you wipe that smile off you face, young man." His mom interrupted his thoughts. "You're not getting off that easy. You're grounded for the rest of the summer and I'll have a list of chores you can do here at home in the afternoons."

"Yes, Mom," Jamie groused.

**AN: holy burnt crepes, Batman. Before anyone gets their knickers in a twist, Bunnymund's human form will have quite a brilliant explanation, if I do say so myself. There will be a chapter dedication to anyone who can figure it out. I'll give you a hint: it is a common theme among Japanese folktales, especially ones about animals. As for the need to be believed in in order to be seen and heard bit in the movie… Well, it is much easier to believe in the existence of an Australian gentleman than it is to believe in the existence of a giant rabbit. Furthermore, in the book, there are adults that live in Santoff Clausen and they, as well as the Lunar Lamas, have no problem with seeing Bunnymund. So, Cassandra can see Bunnymund. Even if she does think that he looks a bit too much like John Lennon… which he does (in my mind's eye at least) lol. Special thanks to those who have elected to follow this story. You make my little black heart go pitter patter. Until Next Time.**


	3. Good Company

**Disclaimer: If I owned it, then movie Tooth would have been just as bad-ass as book Tooth… And my version of book Tooth would have made Rambo piss in fear.**

Early mornings used to be Cassandra's favorite time. She and Jim would get up, usually before dawn, and get the household prepared for the day. She would lay out clothes for the kids, pack Jim's and Jamie's lunch and start breakfast while her husband would go through the bills, balance the checkbooks and wake the kids. It was a comfortable routine where not much was said, but the silence was an intimate one.

Now the silence was ominous. The ticking of her great grandmother's grandfather clock hammered in the silence like a funeral dirge. After Jim walked out Cassandra had a hard time facing the mornings, often not even being able to make it down the stairs, she would just turn and march right back into bed. Two months after the fact had done nothing to ease the loneliness of the early mornings, but it had made the cold place in her queen size bed too unbearable. So there she was, at her table, ignoring the tea she had brewed and staring at the papers in front of her.

Mortgage, car payment, insurance (both home and car), electricity and propane. Even if she were to cut internet, cable and telephone, she wouldn't have enough in the checking account to pay all of the bills, and she already borrowed more money than she felt comfortable with from her sister. Funds were running low, and it wasn't like Cassandra was unwilling to face the reality of her situation, she had been out looking for jobs. The problem was that nobody wanted to hire a twenty seven year old housewife, with hours flexible enough to care for her children, and pay the amount that she would need to make ends meet. Especially when said housewife had no previous job experience and no marketable skills…

She and Jim were high school sweethearts and married shortly after graduation, six months before Jamie was born. He took a job at the lumber yard, hauling wood and her parents sold them the house she grew up in before moving to Louisiana. Her father had died of a heart attack and her mother was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer a year later. They were both buried in the Overland family plot next to the old church. Something that only the descendants of the founding families of Burgess still did, Cassandra loved her small town, but she did not love how quickly the gossip spread. Everyone knew that Jim walked out on her, his job and skipped town almost as soon as she did…

If she sold the car, that would free up car payments and insurance, they would just have to walk to the corner store for most of their needs, and carpool downtown. But that would also restrict Cassandra to finding a job within walking distance, and that's not even considering what they would do once winter hit. That's if the car sells; there was no guarantee that it would, and even then it would only afford them two maybe three more months.

Tears of hopelessness gathered in Cassandra's eyes and she didn't try to fight them. She was tired of fighting, of having to struggle through every second of every day. Tired of having to put on a strong face for the kids, they were having a hard enough time, especially Jamie.

Honestly she wasn't surprised that Jamie had that fit of temper, he's a seven year old who had just lost his father. She had been expecting some kind of reaction; she just wished that it was one that was contained to her household. At least the man who purchased her sister's share of the family estate didn't want money for the window and swing. At this point, Cassandra was grateful for small mercies.

Heaving a sigh she dried her eyes and shuffled the papers into the roll top desk at the base of the stairs then crossed to the other side of the kitchen and pulled out meat to thaw for dinner. She didn't have time for wallowing in self-pity; she had far more important things to do. Like drinking her tepid tea while she made breakfast for her family, because that's what they were, she, Jamie and Sophie. They were a family, a family that had always had a hot breakfast waiting for them when they got up every morning since Jamie was able to eat solid foods. Pulling out the ingredients for pancakes Cassandra resolved that no matter what, she would do everything she could to make sure they stayed a family. That everything was as normal for her children as possible. On a whim she grabbed a bag from the pantry and tossed what remained if its contents into the batter, because really, everything was better with chocolate… Or was it 'nothing a little chocolate won't fix..?'

Cassandra paused while seasoning the griddle. Didn't the new neighbor say that yesterday? What a peculiar turn of phrase, for a grown man, not to mention it didn't really seem to fit into the conversation. "Perhaps," she said to herself as she flipped the chocolate chip pancakes, "He may be just a tad bit eccentric." He was certainly well spoken, and polite. He wouldn't even sit down after she invited him in until she sat first! Although he did seem good with the children, he actually defended Jamie, right after Jamie demolished his property, and Sophie….

Cassandra paused in stacking the pancakes onto plates. Sophie knew his name before he even introduced himself… the vision of her little girl jettisoning herself at him flashed though her head. That and Jamie seemed awful eager to lend a hand with chores, which is unheard of for her son, she would know. The boy would much rather be reading about the loch ness monster or moth men, the little crypto-zoologist that he was.

Now that she thought about it, there was certainly something -_uncanny_- about Aster Bunnymund, like how he was one of those people who it was difficult to pinpoint an age for. Sure he had some grey hair, but his skin was far too smooth to be middle aged, and his eyes… His eyes were piercing and seemed to know _way too much_. What about, she wasn't sure. But her mother was a Burgess, and one thing that every Burgess woman knew was to heed that little niggling voice at the back of their heads, and now that she was actually thinking about Aster Bunnymund, that little voice was practically _screaming_, but oddly enough, not with alarm.

Cassandra abruptly realized that she had been staring at the set table with breakfast cooling away for who knows how long. Shaking it off she went to go wake her children, and silently resolved to keep an eye on the new neighbor.

A quarter of nine found all three Bennetts staring at a lovely carved wooden sign across the street from their home that hadn't been there the day before. It read "E. Aster Bunnymund: Watchmaker and Fine Jewelcrafter: call for appt. free consultations," followed by a phone number.

"Mom, Sophie's running ahead!" Jamie called then chased after his sister. Sighing, Cassandra picked up her pace. As quaint as the idea of a neighborhood watchmaker was, she didn't really see the practicality of it. Still, it was a dying art, and she supposed that he was quite successful at it. He had to be in order to be able to afford the cottage. Rounding the corner Cassandra nearly fainted. There was her father's parent's home, the place where she would spend her summers, where she learned how to cook, how to swim, where so many happy memories of her childhood lay, in complete ruins. Her grandfather was probably turning in his grave with his precious ivy and gardens in such a decrepit state, and the door was covered in thick insulating plastic where the stained glass piece that her grandmother made was supposed to be.

Jamie didn't know that the cottage was in their family since before Burgess was founded, since before the s_tate_ was even. But by the end of the summer she would make sure that he knew. After holding her breath and counting to ten she stepped around to the back of the cottage where she expected to find Jamie and Sophie, and she was right. She was even half expecting Aster Bunnymund, and although he was there as well, she wasn't expecting the other two men.

One was on the porch, wearing black pants with suspenders and a red flannel shirt, wielding a hammer. He had white hair and a white beard and possessed the hulking form of someone who was once densely muscled, but had since allowed it to be softened by age and more than one hearty meal and extra helping of dessert. He looked up at her approach and smiled around nails poking out of his mouth. "Ah yes!" he exclaimed. "You are being Cassandra. I am Nickolas St. North, friend to Aster. You will call me Nickolas. I be fixing the swing. Good as new! That," Nickolas gestured with his hammer to the other man, a portly sort of fellow with flyaway blond hair who was bent over something on a picnic table set on the grass, in deep concentration. "That is being Sandy, very good with glass. He fixing window with same pieces as before! Aster say realtor tells him is work of local artist now dead, so he wishes to keep."

Cassandra couldn't help but smile with Nikolas, his good humor was infectious and thick Russian accent charming. "I'm glad, my grandmother made it, so it's very special to me. I'll let you get back to your work then."

"Yes, yes, very good. Nice to meet you!"

Cassandra moved on to the shed tucked beside the tree line where her children and Aster were. The tall man was without his vest today and was wearing work boots and faded jeans. Gone too was the hat, but the glasses stayed perched on his nose. He was handing Jamie a spade and was explaining to both of the children how to properly set a bulb in the ground. "…I don't think we'll be seeing the lilies later in the season, and the irises won't come back either, but if we can get the roots settled nicely before the fall, then there is no reason why every one of them won't be back next spring. Do you want some help getting started, Jamie?"

"No Aster, I can do it, you better find something for Soph though, before she gets too excited!" Sure enough, Sophie was practically climbing Aster's long, lean legs, grinning from ear to ear. "Is Bunny Peter Rabbit's brother?" she lisped.

"There is no way I'm related to that little thief," Aster growled back with a grin. "Now come on, ankle biter, I've got just the thing for you." Then with as much effort as flicking a wrist Aster scooped up the squirming and giggling girl and perched her on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Turning to Cassandra his expression sobered, but still held a significant amount of softness. "How are you this morning, Ms. Cassandra?"

"I'm very well, considering. Yourself?"

"Nothing good company can't cure. Would you join me inside? Things are still in a bit of disarray, I'm afraid, but they should be serviceable enough."

Nodding, she allowed herself to be ushered indoors while he held the door for her. The interior of the cottage was just as she remembered it being, down to the sooty fireplace and creaky wooden floors. Save for all of the unfamiliar furniture and boxes littered everywhere.

"I've only really gotten the perishables and my workroom unpacked," Aster qualified, Sophie still dangling in his arm and squealing in delight. "I planned on getting the rest done today. You are, of course welcome to whatever you wish to keep yourself occupied this morning. I'll just get Miss Sophia settled, by your leave."

She nodded and he set down her daughter on a rocking chair. She watched as he opened a box and pulled out a lovely antique abacus with polished black beads and a bronze frame. "Do you know what this is, Miss Sophia?" The toddler shook her head. "This is one of the very first computers; it's powered by fingers and logic. Watch." Aster proceeded to show the wide eyed girl how to count the different rows of beads to make numbers and figures.

Smiling, Cassandra pulled out the newspaper she brought with her and a pen, then flipped to the help wanted section, settling onto a settee, Aster's melodious voice and the rhythmic pounding of Nickolas's hammer lulling her into deep concentration.

"Mommy," Sophie tugged on her sleeve, still holding the abacus. "I gotta pee on the potty." Cassandra looked at an elaborate cuckoo clock on the wall and was surprised to see it was two hours later.

"Sure thing sweetie," she told her daughter. "Do you mind if..?"

"Not at all," Aster interrupted from unpacking books and placing them on the built in shelves that used to house her grandmother's glass figurines. He seemed to have finished with the kitchen from the looks of it.

After taking Sophie to do her business the little girl insisted that she sit down so Cassandra could see what had kept the little girl busy for so long.

"Five and five is ten and five is fifteen…" and the little girl continued all the way up to one hundred, then she did the same for the tens, and even the twos, all the while keeping her place with the little black beads of the abacus.

"Is very smart little girl you have!" Nickolas called from the open back door; a peek out the front window showed her that Jamie was still working in the garden.

"Thank you, sometimes I think she's too smart for a four year old. I'm very proud of both my children, Jamie was reading picture books by the time he was three."

"It must be because they have a great mother," Aster said with an appraising look. Cassandra felt her face burning. That was the most touching and sincere compliment she had received in…. years now, actually. The thought that she couldn't remember the last time Jim said something kind to her was a disquieting one.

Cassandra fidgeted with her newspaper." Well, I think we really should be going for today, it's almost lunchtime…"

"You're welcome to stay. I'm sure Jamie could use a breather before he fills his belly. And I don't think Miss Sophia is ready to part with that abacus just yet." Aster interrupted. Sure enough, her daughter was now teaching herself the three tables by counting and recounting the beads.

"I suppose, if it's not too much trouble…"

"Is no trouble," Nickolas answered. "The more the merrier!"

"I'm glad you're so comfortable with my home that you're inviting people to stay without a 'by your leave', North."

"Stop being grumpy, gives indigestion."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, I would be remiss in my duties as a host if I sent you and yours off without a meal."

"Thank you, Aster, I think we will stay, but at least let me help."

"As you say, I think I may have some rice and tofu for stir fry."

"Tofu?" Cassandra questioned.

"Bah." Nickolas muttered, hooking the new swing onto the porch roof. "Bunny, he no eat meat. Is why he so puny."

"I'll 'puny' my foot up your jolly round hind parts." Aster shot back.

Cassandra laughed and called Jamie in to get cleaned up.

**AN: It is almost 3am, I usually have to be to work at 4am, good thing I have today off… OMG I HAVE REVIEWS! Thanks to: CheshireCatGrin3421, 9aza, Silent Wolf Singer and SnuggleErika for sharing their awesomness in the form of reviews. Especially to 9aza for answering the question in the author's note for last chapter, as a prize she has/will be getting to pick a scene in an upcoming chapter (as soon as I can work it in).**

**So in other news, Cassandra's husband has a name, although I didn't want to give him one, and North and Sandy muscled themselves in on this chapter too. I actually wasn't planning on having them come in yet but North was all "I make things, I can fix swing." And Sandy was all sand+fire=glass, is obvious really, silly woman. So there they are.**

**Also, this fic makes me nervous because there is an OC that is proving to become quite a focal figure. This author usually is not a fan of OCs because they tend to be one dimensional plot devices, mary sues or thinly veiled self-insertions. None of which I appreciate. I assure you Cassandra is none of the above, and to that end, I will welcome constructive criticism about her character. Reasonable scene requests will be offered in recompense. **

**I would also like to confess that there is an author called Esse in ff.n and her story "In the Silence" was a major inspiration to me to write this fic, and that influence is proliferate in this chapter in particular. If you have not read "In the Silence" do so now. Immediately.**

**You rock Esse.**

**Apologies for typos and grammatical errors, I blame the heinously late hour. I'm going to bed. Now.**


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